Wildflowers
by iwant2baweasley
Summary: Alone is never how Hermione imagined she'd feel on her 18th birthday. It's just her, Ron and Harry and she isn't holding her breath at the thought that one of them will realize what day it is. ONESHOT.


**_Hey all! This isn't exactly a new story... it's one that I wrote for a Ron/Hermione Missing Moment challenge hosted by rhrlove[dot]com. We weren't allowed to post it anywhere else until October 17th and then I just kept forgetting to post it. But I've finally gotten my act together and I'm posting the story for your reading pleasure!_**

**_xoxoBeccaxoxo  
><em>**

**Title: **Wildflowers**  
>Rating: <strong>PG-13**  
>Pairing: <strong>Ron/Hermione**  
>Genre: <strong>Romance, Friendship**  
>When: <strong>Deathly Hallows**  
>Word Count: <strong>1,253**  
>Warnings: <strong>n/a**  
>SummaryNotes: **Alone is never how Hermione imagined she'd feel on her 18th birthday. It's just her, Ron and Harry and she isn't holding her breath at the thought that one of them will realize what day it is.

**Wildflowers**

Laying awake her cot, Hermione stared at the canvas wall to her right. She could hear Ron and Harry moving about the tent, talking quietly, but she wasn't ready for them to know she was awake yet. She wasn't sure she even wanted to get out of bed today.

She doubted that they would realize what today was.

Not that she could blame them. The past seventeen days had been mind numbingly repetitive and it was hard to remember when one day ended and the next started.

But she knew. She didn't have a calendar or anything that would tell her the date, but she knew.

It was September 19th.

And she was eighteen today.

There would be no party. No presents. No cake. No cards. And worst of all, her parents didn't even remember her.

She had never felt so alone. How did Harry do it year after year?

Feeling her eyes pool with tears, she pressed her face into her pillow and pulled the blankets over her head. The last thing she needed now was for Harry or Ron to hear her crying and ask her what was wrong. She knew they would feel guilty for forgetting her birthday if she told them and she had had enough last minute gifts from the pair of them, especially Ron, to last a lifetime; everything from chocolate frogs, quills, quill ink, parchment and Bertie Bots Every Flavor Beans. Then again, Ron's "thought out" presents weren't much better.

Despite her tears, Hermione let out a snort of laughter as she remembered the Christmas present he had given her during fifth year: a bottle of perfume that changed scents with every spray. She and Ginny had gagged after two sprays of the perfume filled the room with the scent of burnt marshmallows and cinnamon apples.

"I told you she was awake," she heard Ron mutter to Harry.

"Let's give her some privacy," Harry suggested.

Hermione waited until they had left the tent before she tossed her blankets away.

"I slept well, thanks for asking," she muttered as she pulled herself out of bed. Her mood only got worse as she looked around the tent and spotted their breakfast dishes sitting on the table.

Happy Birthday to me, she thought.

Not ready to deal with the mess, she walked across the tent to the small bathroom. She set the beaded bag on the edge of the pedestal sink and pulled out her toiletries, a towel and a clean pair of clothes. She changed out of her pajamas and stepped into the small shower stall.

If only they were back at Hogwarts. Ginny would have remembered her birthday and Ron and Harry would have figured it out, even if it wasn't until the Owl Post arrived with presents from her parents and Ron's parents. Surely Ginny would have reminded them in time for them to Owl Mrs. Weasley and have her pick up presents for them to give her. She was sure Harry would have gotten her a book, but what would Ron have gotten her? He tended to give presents that were either practical (quill, parchment, etc) or things he thought were "wicked" (perfume). But they had gotten closer since his snogfest with Lavendar ended and she had a feeling he liked her as much as she liked him, so maybe he would have given her something of a romantic nature, like write a poem or something.

"Enough," she said aloud to herself, stopping the 'what if' non-sense immediately.

There was no time for dwelling on what could have been, especially with the dangerous nature of their hunt for horcruxes. Dwelling on such things would make her less alert and could land them all in trouble. She had to put everything but the mission on the backburner until after it was complete.

She finished her shower quickly then got dressed and left the bathroom, ready to clean up after the boys. She came to a dead stop in the middle of the tent, when she saw Ron standing in front of the sink, sleeves of his shirt pushed up past his elbows, washing the dishes.

"Who are you and what have you done with Ron Weasley?" She asked, surprised at how easy the teasing question had escaped from her mouth.

"I was bored," he shrugged as he set the last cup on the drying rack. "Would you like a cup of tea or something?"

"Sure, but I can make it," she told him.

"I've got it," he replied. He turned on the stove and put the kettle of water on to boil. Then he turned to her and she could see the concern written on his face. "Are you ok, Hermione?"

"I'm fine," she answered, quickly.

"Hermione." The low tone of his voice added with the look on his face told her that he didn't believe her. "I heard you crying."

"Oh that," she sighed. "I just miss my parents." It wasn't a total lie.

"They're safe and that's all that matters right now," Ron said as he reached a hand across the table and covered one of hers. "After this is all over, I—we—will help you find them."

The whistle of the tea kettle brought their moment to an end as Ron stood up and prepared her a cup of tea. He set it down in front of her then looked at the flap of the tent. "I think I'll take a cup of tea to Harry," he said. "It's pretty cold out there today."

Hermione watched as he quickly prepared another cup of tea then made his way to the flap. A few feet from his destination, he turned and with a smile said, "Happy Birthday, by the way, Hermione."

He remembered! He _actually_ remembered!

Happiness surged through Hermione's body as she grinned into her cup of tea. The fact that he remembered her birthday without any help was the best present he had ever given her.

Unless.

A frown replaced her smile. Had Harry reminded him? Of the two, Harry was the one who would remember her birthday.

The flap opened and Harry came into the tent, headed for the bathroom. He offered her a "good morning" before disappearing into the small room.

It was clear to her when he left the tent a few minutes later that he didn't remember that it was her birthday at all. He would have said something if he knew.

Her smile returned to her face and she had to blink back happy tears.

The flap parted again and Ron reentered the tent with his hand behind his back.

"What are you hiding?" She asked him.

He shushed her and she smiled apologetically.

"After we got home from school in June, my mom forced me to go shopping with her and while we were shopping I found a leather journal that I knew you'd love," he told her. "I bought it for you, but it was hidden under a floor board in my room and since we had to leave The Burrow so quickly, I didn't get a chance to grab it."

As perfect as the journal sounded to her, she wanted to tell him that it wasn't important. The fact that he remembered her birthday was the perfect present.

"Since I couldn't go out and get you another present, I had to work with what I had at hand," he said before bringing his hand around, revealing a bouquet of wildflowers. "Happy Birthday, Hermione."


End file.
